


Here's the Pitch

by lordavon



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Baseball, Crossdressing, Deadpool's identity is secret too, Everyone Overreacts, Flirting, Identity Reveal, M/M, Miscommunication, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Protective Peter Parker, Wade Wilson Needs A Hug, no beta reader we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-17 06:30:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20616536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lordavon/pseuds/lordavon
Summary: Peter Parker and Wade Wilson meet at a Yankees game and really hit it off. But can they survive after the game's over and they realize they already knew each other as Spider-Man and Deadpool, or is it game over?Based on SpiderKatana's Baseball Game prompt on the Isn't It Bromantic? Discord group.





	1. A critic once characterized baseball as six minutes of action crammed into two-and-one-half hours. -- Ray Fitzgerald

“You want me to what?”

MJ huffed at him, stirring creamer into her coffee. “Come to the Yankees game with me on Saturday. Harry got the tickets weeks ago, but a work emergency came up and he’s not even going to be in the country now. You are my best friend and therefore required to come because there are already tickets. I believe it’s in the friend rules.”

Peter gave a long-suffering sigh. “Yankees? That’s…badminton, right?”

She gave him a look. “Baseball, Peter. Baseball. Yankees versus Red Sox.”

He sighed. “I don’t like baseball. It’s long and boring and…long.” Peter finished his caramel macchiato and considered going for a second one. He loved these things, and with his heightened metabolism was he rarely worried about what he ate or drank. He’d burn through the calories easily enough.

“Peter, you’re a Mets fan!”

“Well, sure, if you include the kind of fan who checks the scores and standings but doesn’t actually watch games. Because they are boring. Also, you said Yankees game. I’m a Mets fan; why would I want to go to a Yankees game?”

“Pfft. You are going so I’m not going alone. I don’t want to find they’ve resold the extra seat because no one claimed the ticket; I have no need to spend an entire game fending off some unknown. Bring a book to read or something if you think the game’s too boring.” She gave him a smirk. “Although honestly I thought you’d at least enjoy ogling the players.”

Scarlet flushed up his cheeks. “MJ!”

“Some of those uniforms really show off their ass – eep!” She laughed as he threw a sugar packet at her. It landed in her coffee and she fished it out with a spoon. “Now you have to come with me to make up for ruining my coffee.”

Peter slouched back in his chair. “Ugh, fine, fine, I’ll come watch golf with you.”

“Baseball.”

“It’s a sport with a stick and they hit a ball. Close enough.”

She threw the sugar packet back at him, laughing when it stuck to his cheek. “Saturday! Don’t forget! And cancel your evening plans, just in case it goes into extra innings.”

“Extra innings? That’s a thing?” Peter groaned, then blinked innocently at her. “Wait, what’s an inning?”

She upended the bowl of sugar packets over his head.

**

“Why am I doing this again?”

Wade watched Weasel debiting one of Wade’s accounts through Sister Margaret’s computer system. “Because, asswipe, you screwed up the last job twice. Which is pretty fucking impressive. Usually you only screw it up once, but no, you managed twice.”

“Usually I don’t screw them up,” Wade complained.

“Yes, I know, but that’s not the point. The point is you owe me because I’m the one who spent five hours apologizing to the sponsor for you getting them arrested plus posting their damn bail money for them! I can’t shoot you because you don’t fucking die and I can’t stop giving you jobs because when you do them right you make way more than anyone else in this joint. So I am going to torture you with something you’ll find completely boring and inane and takes up at least several hours of your life.” He finished the online purchase. “Hence you’re going with me to a fucking baseball game and I really hope you hate it from start to finish.”

“Yes, but – “

“I happen to like baseball; is that a fucking problem Wade?!”

Wade shook his head. “It’s just I had things to do this Saturday.” He didn’t mention Spider-Man had finally agreed to come by and play videogames before they went out on a patrol. That wouldn’t go over well with Weasel in this mood.

“Well, consider your plans canceled.”

“Yes, but- “

“Apologizing! For five fucking hours! I had to get a thesaurus so I stopped repeating myself!”

Wade slumped on the bar. “Fine, fine, I will come watch baseball.”

**

Deadpool looked up as Spider-Man landed on the roof next to him. He shoved the last of his burrito in his mouth and rolled down his mask; they’d been meeting up on rooftops and at crime scenes for nearly a year, but he hadn't let Webs see his face yet. Peter didn't blame him; he hadn't offered his own face up for inspection. “Hey, Shpider-Mahn,” the mercenary mumbled while chewing. Swallowed. “Brought you dinner.”

Spidey settled onto the edge of the roof, pulling out the burrito and unwrapping it. Lifted his mask up over his nose so he could eat. “Thanks DP. You didn’t have to though.” It wasn't one of the best burritos he'd eaten but free food was free food. And he had to admit he liked the companionship, something he hadn’t imagined would be true when he’d first met the merc. Deadpool’s company had grown on him over time and the random meet-ups had been enjoyable enough that they’d scheduled patrols together several times a week. There really weren’t a lot of supers who just hung out at night looking for the run of the mill criminal. Having someone else around who got the idea was nice.

It didn’t hurt he found the mercenary sexy as hell. The leather suit showed off the older man’s physique to perfection and Peter often found him distracting beyond the constant banter. His feelings for the merc ran deeper than he wanted to admit; he kept wondering what it would be like to sleep with Deadpool, but he’d never tried to find out. The man propositioned practically everyone they met. He’d once watched Deadpool ask a streetlight out on a date.

Plus, while he was certainly enjoying the fantasies of Deadpool his mind conjured, he wasn’t so sure he was going to enjoy the reality. He hadn’t exactly been lucky in relationship departments so far in his life; wrecking what had turned into a pretty solid friendship on the off chance Deadpool was serious didn’t seem like his smartest option. He was nervous that if he took Deadpool up on one of these offers it would turn out it had all been a joke. And then he’d have to feel pathetic. No, unrequited lust – love – crushing – seemed the safest course of action.

“You’re always hungry, Webs. Besides it’s more an apology burrito.”

“Apology burrito? What’s it apologizing for?”

Deadpool sighed despondently enough that Spider-Man sat up in alarm. “I gotta cancel for Saturday and videogames. A friend – something came up and I can’t get out of it. I’m sorry, Webs. I tried.”

“Oh.” He was grateful his mask hid his blush. He’d completely forgotten about going over to Deadpool’s before they went on patrol. Some friend he thought he was. Guilt churned in his stomach, mixing uneasily with the burrito. He should have remembered.

Argh, he was forgetting to talk. 

“Well, okay. I hope everything’s all right? I mean, surely it’s more important to spend time with your friends?” He thought about what he said. “Not that I’m not your friend, but your other friends! Like friends without masks on! It is friends without masks, right?” he stammered. Deadpool had been after him for weeks to do something more relaxing together. It must be important if Deadpool had to cancel.

Deadpool laughed. “Without masks and without benefits too.” He leaned over and nuzzled his cheek on Spider-Man’s shoulder, staring up at him like a puppy. Spider-Man really envied how expressive Deadpool’s mask was. And was grateful his own hid his blush as his heart gave a little treacherous thump. He liked this too much.

“Oh Webs, does that mean since we’re friends with masks we can be friends with benefits? Because I’m ready to be all in, if you know what I mean…”

He really shouldn’t enjoy the random snuggling as much as he did. If he wasn’t planning on taking Deadpool up on the offer he shouldn’t be encouraging him. He did the safe thing under the circumstances and shoved Deadpool back to sitting upright. “Deadpool!”

“That’s not a no….”

He pulled his mask down. “Come on, let’s patrol.” And because he was blushing at the flirting, and disappointed Deadpool had to cancel their Saturday plans even though he would have had to himself, he leapt off the building and webbed over to the next one, without letting Deadpool climb onto his back first.

“That’s still not a no!” Deadpool shouted behind him.

Peter paused, took a deep breath, and turned around. “Well? Are you coming or do I have to come back and—" He cut off as Deadpool flung himself off the roof after him. Sighing, he shot out webs to catch the larger man and pulled him up. “You do remember you can’t fly, right?”

Deadpool made a heart with his hands. “And yet, here I am! So the friends with benefits is gonna be a thing, right? I have a little red-and-black dress I’ve been saving for the right occasion and this could be it, Webs, this could be it!”

Peter just laughed. “You’re really lucky I like you. Let’s go. I want to get some patrol in tonight.”

He wasn’t entirely sure he was meant to hear Deadpool’s mumbled, “Yeah, I am,” but he did, and he considered canceling his plans with MJ until he remembered Deadpool had canceled first.

“So if you’re busy Saturday then maybe we get together Sunday? For videogames!” he asked, voice pitching a bit higher than he meant.

“It’s a date!”

“It’s not a date!” He wished he had the courage to say it was a date.

“Awwwwwwww. What if I brought flowers?”

**

Peter stood in front of his closet wondering what one wore to a baseball game. He didn’t own any sports jerseys or t-shirts unless a Quidditch one counted, and he felt confident MJ would say it did not. He ran a hand through his shower-damp, mouse-brown hair and flopped backwards onto his bed with a sigh.

He really wished he was going to play videogames with Deadpool right now. Heck, he wished he was on a date with Deadpool right now. That had to be better than a baseball game. He imagined what Deadpool might look like in the dress, wondering if it was tight and slinky or frilly and floofy. Deadpool had shown up twice to patrol wearing floofy dresses, though, so more than likely it was frilly. Just thinking about it was more enticing than he would have originally thought, a slight blush tinging his cheeks and warmth curling in his stomach.

His pocket buzzed and he startled before he could really get a good daydream going. MJ had sent a countdown timer. Ugh. Twenty minutes until she swung by to pick him up. He didn’t have time to fantasize about Deadpool.

Okay. Think baseball, he told himself firmly. He stared at his closet. Absolutely nothing in his closet seemed like baseball. Eventually he settled on black jeans, and a t-shirt that read: Science! I’m one accident away from being a supervillain.

MJ laughed when she saw it. “You are the least likely person I know to be a supervillain, Tiger.”

He grinned back. “Awww, you say the nicest things.”

**

Wade watched the crowds heading into Yankee Stadium and tried to convince himself that no one was looking at him or paying attention to him. He hated being out in public without his face on, but Weasel had insisted on civilian wear. And to be honest, as much as he wanted to be upset about it, blending in would be better than sticking out in a place where an easy escape wasn’t possible. From a distance, he’d just be a faceless member of the crowd.

“What are you wearing?”

Wade glanced over Weasel’s outfit, a shockingly normal Yankees jersey, blue jeans and baseball cap ensemble, and then looked down at the Maple Leafs jersey he had on under his hoodie. “Sports jersey? I don’t have anything for baseball, and I thought this would work better than my Canada National Curling team shirt. I have a cheerleader outfit I can wear instead? Is it the jeans? You wanted me in a skirt?”

Weasel rubbed at his face as people streamed past them into the stadium. “I begin to regret I thought of this.”

“Yeah, lemme just go home and change into the skirt and-“

“No! You don’t need a skirt. Keep your pants on, for fuck’s sake.”

Wade tried very hard not to smirk. “There’s something I don’t hear every day.”

Weasel rolled his eyes. “Okay, glad we’re past that. Now, you’re buying all the food and the drinks. If I want a souvenir you get that for me too.”

“All this plus I get the joy of watching baseball.”

“I had. To pay. His bail.” Weasel glared up at him. “You should be thanking me I didn’t find a double-header.”

“That sounds kinky,” Wade leered at him. “You sure you not wanting some of this after the game?” He rocked his hips in Weasel’s direction.

“I’m going to be sick.” Weasel turned to lead them through the crowd into the ballpark.

Wade frowned as they got further in. “With this on my dime I would have thought we’d be in an air-conditioned box.”

“Couldn’t get one; they’d already been reserved. But I still got really good seats.” He shrugged. “Less expensive than I wanted to make you spend on this but the really, really good seats no one sits in who’s a real fan, they are just there for the experience or the food. We’re at least behind the Yankees dugout. Just up a level.” He checked the tickets and then the signs. “This way.”

“Yay,” Wade whispered sarcastically under his breath, making little ‘yippee’ motions with his hands.

**

Peter was glad he’d brought a book to the game. This many people had his Spider-senses on a low-grade buzz at the back of his skull. It wasn’t enough to really worry him – no one around was actively planning something – but it made him a bit jumpy. The book gave him something to focus on and ignore the sensation.

“Hey. Can we get past?”

Peter looked up from reading as two men started into the aisle, and he stood to let them through. The first wasn’t all that interesting in his baseball jersey and cap and mentally Peter dismissed him. The second caught his eye first for wearing a hoodie up over his head and second for having an amazing ass, followed by a set of shoulders that made him catch his breath. Damn. Now this game would be torture, spidey-sense plus sitting next to hot eye candy. The guy was probably a fan and all Peter knew of baseball was, well, there was a stick and you hit a ball. And when you didn’t, you got made fun of in gym class.

He slid back down into his seat as the man flopped into his own and took over the shared armrest. Peter scrunched a little closer to MJ to give him room, wondering who the Maple Leafs were.

“Hey, it’s rude to stare, but I’ll take it, since for once someone seems lost in my chest and not recoiling from my face.”

“What?” Peter yanked his eyes up and then swallowed; what had happened to the man’s face? Under the hoodie, the man looked like a burn victim, skin scarred and twisted, but what caught Peter’s attention was the lovely deep brown shade of his eyes. “Whoa, your eyes are gorgeous.” A mortified blush turned Peter’s entire face scarlet, and he stammered out, “Sor- sorry! Just – yeah! Sorry!” before burying his face back in his book.

MJ gave Wade an apologetic smile over Peter’s head. “He really is. Sorry about him.” She turned back to reading her program booklet.

**

Wade looked between Weasel – solidly ignoring him and reading player stats in his program – and Cute But Awkward Guy – still brilliant red from blushing and firmly engaged with his book – and he sighed, slouching into the bleacher seat.

This was going to be absolute torture.


	2. More than any other American sport, baseball creates the magnetic, addictive illusion that it can almost be understood. -- Thomas Boswell

Wade hummed the Canadian National Anthem while the US Anthem played over the loudspeakers, enjoying the way it made Weasel grit his teeth. Wade decided any chance to annoy Weasel during the next several hours counted as a significant win. When the music finished and they were allowed back into their seats he leaned into Weasel’s space. “Okay, so how does one score a goal in this?”

“Score a…. There’s no goals in baseball. You score a run.” Weasel gestured at the field. “First base, second base, third base, home. Also, for your edification, that’s kissing, groping, fingering or oral, and fucking. Maybe you’ll remember it now.”

There was a quiet chuckle to his side and Wade glanced over to see Cute But Awkward Guy was laughing at Weasel’s explanation while simultaneously turning bright crimson again. Damn, that was adorable. Extra points for making Cute But Awkward laugh or blush, he determined. That made…two points.

“So, see, he’s on first base.” Weasel was still talking, and Wade refocused.

“So that’s a goal, right? I mean a run? And are they gonna kiss now?”

Another snicker from his right. Point three.

“No, and no. They don’t kiss, and the player doesn’t score until he reaches home.”

“Ahhhh.” Wade nodded. So many references in pop culture suddenly made sense. “But then they fuck, right?” He pointed at home plate. “Which one? The other team or the big referee guy? Or both?” He bounced a little in his seat. “Ooh! Is that what it means when they hit a triple?” He grinned as Cute But Awkward gave up pretending to read his book and outright laughed. The redhead with him glared as she watched the game. Point four.

“There’s no fucking in baseball,” Weasel grit out. “It’s slang, we use the terms for sex.”

Point five. “Right.” He watched the game a moment. “It’d be way more interesting if they fucked.”

The guy next to him started to cough from laughing, and Redhead tapped her foot in agitation. Point six. Wade watched another player swing and miss the ball. “Okay, so he hits, they catch, he’s not allowed to run. Right? But how does the other team score?”

There was a long pause before Weasel groaned. Point seven. “Okay, fine. They take turns hitting or fielding. So, after they get three outs, they switch sides, the other team gets three outs, and that’s an inning.”

“An inning is like a period in hockey?”

“Yes, sort of.” Nope, he didn’t sound frustrated enough. No point.

“So, what if- “

Weasel stared at him. “I swear you are doing this on purpose. You cannot possibly be this ignorant of baseball. They have baseball in Canada. The – um – Expos.” Point -

Redhead exploded, “The Blue Jays! The Expos haven’t existed for over a decade!” Her unexpected input startled Cute But Awkward away from her into the opposite armrest and Wade’s arm. Wade gave up on points and declared himself the winner.

Weasel glanced at her. “Are you sure?” At her nod he shrugged. “All right. It’s not like I care about Canadian baseball teams anyways.”

Curiosity got the better of Wade when the other man didn’t immediately shy away from the light contact. “Hey, Cute But Awkward, you okay there? You need me to protect you from your girlfriend?”

“What? Oh! Sorry!” The guy yanked himself off Wade’s arm, “S-sorry! I didn’t – You take up a lot of space. I mean…” That insane blush was back and the guy bolted to his feet. “I’ll be right back,” he told Redhead, and handed her his book as he took off towards the concourse. Wade settled back in his seat with satisfaction.

Won the bonus round, too.

**

Peter got his back up against a wall and just let it support his weight. He couldn’t blame this level of jumpiness on the background spider-sense. Maybe he needed to take people’s advice and try dating again. He should not be letting a stranger get to him like this just because the guy was easy on the eyes. It was embarrassing and he was glad, once he was breathing normally, that the stranger was being so good-natured about it.

For the love of everything, he was Spider-Man. He could free-fall off buildings. He could dodge bullets. He could lift cars. He should be able to sit through a baseball game next to a handsome stranger without blushing the entire time.

Damn, but he wished he was playing video games with Deadpool instead of this. He might be blushing as much if he were with Deadpool but at least he wouldn’t be so jittery. He really hoped DP was enjoying himself, whatever he was doing right now. He pulled out his cell phone and was half-way through texting Deadpool when he thought better of it. First, he didn’t need to feed his crush and second, he didn’t want to get caught up in texts and ignore MJ. And he knew from experience that once he started texting Deadpool the man wouldn’t stop for days.

Okay. He pushed himself off the wall. Time for a plan. Get some food for him and MJ, who he shouldn’t ignore through the game. Sit down, act like an adult who understands actual human interaction. He could do this.

Twenty minutes of waiting in line later he’d achieved snacks. He went back and sat down next to MJ, handing her a beer, a hot dog, and a package of popcorn, keeping a similar amount of food for himself. “Sorry. I’m apparently an alien today.” He looked at her with puppy eyes. “Please teach me the ways of your human communication so I may blend in better with the population at this social interaction entertainment venue and possibly not embarrass myself further.”

MJ rolled her eyes but took his offering of food. “You are lucky I like you, you do know this, right?”

He grinned at her. “Every single day. Now…” he glanced over his shoulder, caught the eyes of the big guy next to him, and winked, before looking back at MJ, “I missed the earlier explanation while reading. How does one score a goal in this game?”

“There’s no goals in baseball!” growled the big guy’s friend in exasperation.

“I’m going to pour my beer over your head if you start this,” MJ warned at the same time.

He handed her his beer. “That’s why I brought a second one.”

The man next to him laughed so hard he started gulping in air and clutching his chest. Peter rested back in his seat with a self-satisfied grin before devouring his hot dog.

**

Wade stared up at the scoreboard wondering if he cared enough to try to decipher who was winning, drinking his beer as he did. Once past a few jokes, Cute But Awkward had made a credible play at being interested in the game for his friend’s sake, but she’d gotten involved in the action again and the guy was looking as bored as Wade felt. He leaned over into Cute’s shoulder. “If I’m reading that correctly we’ve got 7 more periods of hell to get through, my friend.”

“INNINGS!” Weasel and Redhead corrected in unison.

This close, there was something oddly familiar about the man. Was it his scent? Wade was certain he’d remember meeting someone this cute.

“Have we met?” Cute But Awkward asked before Wade could ask the same question.

Wade laughed, the sound bitter in his own ears, “What, you’d forget this face?”

“Well, no,” Cute But Awkward admitted. Then visibly pulled up a bit of confidence. “Like I said, you have really striking eyes.” Wade blinked, taken aback by the answer, and flailed mentally for a response; he just didn’t get a lot of compliments. Before he could come up with something clever and witty, half the crowd suddenly jumped to their feet, shouting at the field, Weasel and MJ both amongst them. Half a beat behind them Wade hopped up and shouted too. Cute But Awkward looked at the players and then the big screen and shrugged.

“Why are you shouting?”

“I have no idea, it just seemed fun.”

“We’re shouting,” Redhead explained, “Because we’re down two runs and the Umpire just called the Red Sox runner safe at home when he was clearly out!” As she spoke, her words got louder until she was shouting at the field again. Several people in nearby seats cheered her on.

Wade looked at Weasel blankly. “The Umpire’s the Line Ref, right?”

“Okay, that’s it; I’m fucking done. You! Ginger!” Weasel pointed at Redhead. “Switch seats with this dumbass. You can stay next to your boyfriend but at least I’ll have someone next to me that understands how the damn game is played. You, asshole, switch with Ginger. You can annoy Bambi and leave me alone.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“We’re not dating; he’s a friend.”

“I didn’t ask to see a soap opera today.” Weasel sat back down. MJ and Wade looked at each other for a moment, shrugged, and swapped seats.

**

Within minutes Weasel and MJ had introduced themselves and were animatedly discussing the game. Peter watched them, mostly to be sure Weasel would behave, before turning back. “Oh, I’m Peter, by the way.”

“Wade.” Wade glanced at the book. “What’cha reading, Bambi?”

He hadn’t liked the nickname when Weasel said it; but there was something different when Wade called him Bambi that he liked. Peter made a strangled noise in his throat. “Do not call me Bambi until at least after the—” he started to jest, and then gave himself a little shake. “Um. Reading! It’s a book. Er… ‘What If.’ It’s all crazy science ideas like what would actually happen if the earth stopped spinning or if there was really only one soulmate that you could only randomly find. It tries to break everything down scientifically and work through the crazy hypotheses as if they could really happen.”

Wade looked amused. “So you’re a bit of a nerd then?” he asked, plucking the book out of Peter’s hands and looking over the table of contents. “Hey, it’s got pictures.”

“Yeah, to help illustrate the concepts. His math and science is solid, or at least plausible. And I’m not a bit of a nerd, I’m a bio-chemist. That’s a lot of nerd.” He grinned.

“Very well, you’re a lot of nerd.” Wade leafed through the book before handing it back. “And you’re stuck at a baseball game with Not-Your-Girlfriend?”

“Her boyfriend got called out of town on work and she wanted me to come so she wouldn’t be stuck with a stranger.” He glanced over his shoulder where MJ was deep into her discussion with Weasel. “I don’t think I worked as expected, but she seems happy now.”

“Heh, Weasel’s just glad I’m not trying to equate this to hockey any longer.” Wade got more comfortable in his seat, taking over the shared armrest again without really thinking about it. “Which is good, because I was beginning to run out of clever ideas to annoy him,” he added in a lower voice.

Peter smothered a giggle as Wade admitted he’d been doing the clueless hockey fan schtick on purpose. “How’d you get stuck at the game with - Weasel? Is that a name?”

“Oh, I screwed up a project of his and this is my punishment.”

“What kind of project?”

“Expensive.” Wade looked thoughtful as he answered, and Peter let it drop. Wasn’t his place to really pry into random stranger’s lives anyway. Even ones that made him laugh.

“You do realize you’re staring again, right?” Wade poked his shoulder. “C’mon Bambi, I know I’m not that good-looking.”

Peter frowned as the voice teased his memories. “Are you sure I don’t know you from somewhere? Did you go to school in New York? Work for a science lab? Maybe a reporter or – “

He stopped asking questions as Wade shook his head. “I was a soldier, and now I’m a … private contractor.”

“Oh, like security work?”

He nodded. “Something like that. Can’t go into more detail; most of what I do is under NDA.”

“I’m familiar with the concept. Most of what I do is NDA, too.”

Wade looked him over. “Somehow, I suspect we do very different types of things. But! What’s important is that Weasel over there is having too much of a good time. Let’s see….” He paused, then leaned past Peter. “Hey Weasel! Me and Petey-pie here can’t remember what the guy throwing the ball on that weird hill is called.”

Weasel traded a long-suffering look with MJ. “Please tell me at least your Bambi knows what the fuck the right words are?”

She looked doubtfully at Peter, who shrugged and said, “Um, the mound? Yeah, the mound. And the thrower. No, the slinger. That’s right?”

“Well…that’s half-right. It’s the pitcher.”

Wade started to giggle. “The hill is called the pitcher? Then what do you call the guy throwing the ball? The baller?”

“For fuck’s sake.” Weasel looked like he was ready to strangle Wade. “Go get more snacks. Bring some for Bambi and Ginger here, since they have to put up with you too.”

Wade flipped Weasel off as a salute as he stood. Peter got up with him. “You want help? I can help carry plus I know what MJ and I like to eat so…”

“Heh, sure. Just don’t worry about paying for it. Kinda my deal today.”

**

Wade took off, keeping an eye out to make sure Peter was keeping up. Damn, but the younger man was cute as fuck. The way he blushed had Wade nearly squirming in his seat and he wanted to see what other reactions he could get from him. He hadn’t expected to find a sexy young thing as bored as he was at the game. It was alleviating a lot of the tedium. He was really enjoying the blushes and the stammering. Shame he was probably never going to see the guy again.

“Hey, Wade? Wade?” Peter touched his arm gently, then jumped back as Wade startled, nearly went for a weapon and had to turn the motion into something else when he remembered he was at a baseball game. “Sorry! Just we’ve hit the end and you didn’t stop anywhere?”

He took a breath. “I guess I got lost in thought. Okay, what do you think we should get them?”

Peter shrugged. “Hot dogs, cotton candy, cracker jacks, nachos, and cheese fries. Someone will like something out of all that. Oh, and beer. And soda for me.” Under Wade’s sudden stare, Peter wilted a little. Fuck, that was adorable too. “I don’t really like the taste of beer?”

“Well, I guess you had to have some flaws, didn’t you.” Wade stepped up to the first drink stand he saw and started ordering. He got a caddy to carry the drinks in and followed Peter to a concession stand to order food. Damn, that ass was nearly perfection. The only one he’d seen that was sexier was Spidey’s.

“If that’s my only flaw so far I’m doing better than usual,” Peter joked. “Are you going to pay?” He had a tray piled high with food and was staring at Wade again, who remembered he was supposed to be covering expenses today. Wade juggled the drinks and got his wallet out, tapping his card on the reader without even looking at the price. The girl behind the register stared at his face with a look of shocked disgust as she handed over the receipt. Another excellent reminder that maybe he shouldn’t be trying to flirt with cute but normal people at a fucking baseball game.

They got back to their seats in time to watch players coming off the field and others taking their place. Wade grinned as he handed out the drinks and Peter handed out food. “Does this mean we only have six periods left to go now?” he asked.

Weasel put his head in his hands. “Innings, dear lord, they are called innings.”

“And it’s now the bottom of the third.”

He sat down next to Peter and leaned into the young man, whispering in his ear, “Bottom, top, the sexual tension in this game is killing me. If it only lived up to its hype.”

Peter nearly choked on his bite of hot dog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About two years ago, I got very sick during the World Series. I'm zonked out on meds on the couch, and long-suffering hubby is watching the game. The only sports terms I could come up with were hockey terms (my sport of choice), so he puts up with inning after inning of me asking things like, 'This is the Stanley Cup - I mean, Stanley Cup' because I kept realizing I was using the wrong terms and yet couldn't find the right ones in my head.
> 
> 'What If' is a real book by the author of the webcomic XKCD, if you haven't already heard of it. You must also thank my friend Merv for the book suggestion; Merv's actually a chemist so I pinged him saying, "What geeky books would a chemist read?"
> 
> Merv: 'What's the situation?"
> 
> Me: "Peter Parker is at a baseball game"
> 
> Merv: "Which version of Peter?"
> 
> This makes me love having geeky friends.


	3. Never say never in this game because crazy stuff can happen. -- Mark Buehrle

“Favorite flower.”

“Daisies. Favorite TV show.”

“Golden Girls. Favorite Superhero.”

“Mighty Mouse.”

Wade snerked. “Are you even old enough to know who that is?”

“No, but I thought you’d be.”

“Oooouch. Serious burn.”

Peter grinned and marked a pretend score in the air. “Peter three, Wade two.”

“You’re cheating, Bambi.” Wade pretended to huff and pout.

“Hah!” Peter grinned. “How can I possibly be cheating at stupid online profile questions?”

“Secret Nerd powers?”

“What are Secret Nerd powers?” Peter cocked his head in curiosity.

Wade shrugged. “Random trivia, the ability to debate foes into submission, cosplay extreme sewing….um…”

Peter laughed, watching the game briefly. One of the teams – the red one, he thought -caught a ball and everyone was swapping positions on the field again. He nudged Wade and then asked, “Hey, MJ, what period is it?”

“I don’t even know you,” she drawled.

**

MJ waited for a chance when Peter was out of his seat and out of sight before tapping Wade on his arm. “Hey, Wade?”

Wade looked up from his cell phone game at her. “Yes?”

“If this is just a fun way for you to pass the time and you aren’t planning on exchanging phone numbers or seeing him again, just say it straight at the end of the game, ‘kay? He’s had some rough relationships and he really doesn’t need to be ghosted if you aren’t interested after the game’s over.”

He straightened up in his seat. “I – hadn’t thought that far.” He really hadn’t; he’d been enjoying Peter’s company too much. It was rare anyone managed to get past his face and Peter had a similar enough sense of humor that Wade was finding it easy to talk to him. He lived too much in the moment to really think that far ahead, and now that he was thinking about it, he started to think he may have been making bad decisions all day. Peter seemed like a normal, well-adjusted, generally-fitting-into society kind of person. Sure, awkward and jumpy, but a regular person. Wade knew he himself was anything but that.

“Yes, well, think that far. I don’t care if this is a hey, nice we met, not seeing you again, enjoy your life moment. For example: Weasel, we’re never seeing each other again, right?”

“Fuck, I hope not.”

She nodded. “Exactly.” Turned back to Wade. “But you - if you offer to hang out afterwards and think better of it, or exchange numbers and never call him - I’ll find you, kill you, find a way to bring you back to life, and kill you again. After I castrate you. Ooh, we scored!” She gave a little cheer as a Yankee managed to cross home plate, threats forgotten.

Peter slid back into his seat and noticed Weasel and Wade staring at MJ. “What did I miss?”

“Ginger threatened to castrate Dumbass over there.”

Wade tensed as Peter turned a flat stare on him. Holy hell, the guy suddenly radiated enough menace that he wanted a gun in his hand trained on the nerd. How did awkward blushing geeky Peter have this much sheer threat in him? Wade made a quick reassessment of Peter’s danger level. He was confident he’d win in a fight, but now he suspected there might be a contest if there actually was a fight.

“What did he do, MJ?” Another notch up on Wade’s scale as he watched Peter stay still as he asked.

“Nothing. Yet. I was just giving him a polite warning.”

Wade held his breath as Peter’s narrowed eyes didn’t waver. “Really?” Peter asked.

She leaned over and hugged Peter. Wade barely managed not to gape at her, wondering how she didn’t perceive the threat he represented. “Yes, really, Tiger. It’s handled.”

“Good.” And then Peter was back, the danger gone, and Wade felt like something was seriously wrong with the universe. What the fuck just happened?

“How did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Turn all scary there?”

Peter stared at him and then shook his head. “I did what?”

“Turned all…yeah. Sure. Never mind.” He looked over at Weasel, but Weasel was watching the game and arguing with MJ over a ruling on the field. Had Weasel not noticed? Had he just hallucinated that? Fuck knows he’s had some vivid delusions.

Peter reached up and patted him on top of his hoodie. “There, there, Wade. Maybe we need to cut you off the alcohol. Might be messing with your perceptions.”

**

“Right, so there’s a goalie, and there’s two defensemen, and three offense, and you get to hit people legally. Then there’s also fighting, but that’s a penalty and they make you sit in a box for a time out. Yes, really.” Wade pulled up a video of a hockey game on his cell phone. “See, this is a real sport. There are people bleeding on the ice.”

Peter was less certain. “Are you watching this for the game or the fighting?” he asked.

“Yes, exactly! And it lasts a normal amount of time. Three periods, two intermissions, no endless dragging on attempting to murder your soul with endless boredom.”

“You said endless twice.”

“That’s just how endless it is, Bambi.”

“Maybe, just maybe,” Weasel told MJ, “a foul ball will knock them both unconscious and spare us.”

Peter faced Wade so MJ and Weasel couldn’t see his smirk as he asked, “Sure, but, explain offsides again?”

**

“What inning it is?” Peter asked, practically oozing out of the chair, he’d slouched so low in it. Wade was much the same, his chin tucked into his chest. At some point his leg ended up pressed against Peter’s and he was enjoying the sensation. This was the most boring sport he’d ever seen and he was never going to mock Nascar again. He’d been sure nothing was as dull as watching cars turn left for three hours but at least in car racing there was always the chance someone would explode. The most exciting thing so far to happen during this game was a stray cat got out on the field and the game paused while people chased it around.

He checked the scoreboard and sighed. Inning six. He still couldn’t figure out when it was top or bottom. “The inning of losing the will to stay awake,” Wade said with a yawn.

He felt a thump on his arm and looked down to see Peter resting against him. It was a comfortable, familiar feeling, and Wade had another moment wondering if he knew the younger man from somewhere. “Wake me when it’s over; I can’t take it anymore,” he mumbled, closing his eyes. He looked peacefully beautiful against his arm and Wade wanted nothing more than to rest his head against Peter’s and sleep the rest of the game.

Fuck.

FUCK.

He gently pushed Peter upright. “Hey, c’mon. I’m not a pillow.”

“You could be?”

“No, I really can’t be.”

“Oh.” There was wealth of conversation in that simple syllable and Wade felt guilty for having flirted so long during the afternoon. He was the worst. He watched Peter rub his hands over his face in an attempt to be more alert. “Okay. No worries.”

Wade couldn’t help but glance at MJ; she nodded at him like he’d done the right thing. She didn’t look happy about it though, giving Peter a sad look the younger man didn’t see. Somehow it didn’t make him feel any better.

**

Peter bounced to his feet as MJ stood up with the opening bars of YMCA. “Oh, hey, I know this one!” he said, grinning at her. They started singing to each other along with the music, dancing in place, and then doing the letters and getting them confused at first. MJ hugged him when it finished, whispering in his ear, “I think Wade stared at your ass that entire time.”

“Why would you tell me that?” he whined at her, feeling his face heat up.

She grinned at him. “You deserve it for pretending you don’t know how baseball is played. Faker.”

As he sank back into his seat, he had to admit she was probably right. “Only three and a half innings to go, I think,” he offered up to Wade.

“The end is near!” Wade cheered, and then slumped. “Oh, wait, I forget it took us forever to get through the first six innings.”

“Well, technically we’re not through inning six yet.”

Wade clutched his chest. “Get my hopes up to dash them to the ground.”

Peter chuckled. “Well, it could be worse.”

“Don’t you know never to say that? It always gets worse when people say that!”

“Yeah but – “

“No, Bambi, no, don’t tell me how your unimaginative little brain has decided today can get worse. You will just be daring the baseball gods to unleash horror upon us.”

Peter shrugged with a laugh. “Well, if you need to be dramatic about it, fine.”

**

“Seriously, you chose the t-shirt, you must have some idea how.” Wade waited, enjoying the way Peter’s eyes looked when he was thinking. Or just enjoying Peter’s eyes.

“Fine. If I was a supervillain…” He had trouble saying it seriously, and Wade thought that was adorable. It did no harm to flirt the rest of the game, then just say goodbye, right? Right? He hoped so, because his willpower was shot to hell when it came to Peter and flirting. “Well, I don’t think I’d want to be part of a team. I’d have to be one of the science supervillains and you’re always reading in the news they are getting betrayed by their partners because the partners think they’re smarter. So just me, maybe a few genetically-engineered-to-be-loyal minions.”

“Genetically engineered, hunh?”

“Bio-chemist. Seems my safest bet? I doubt I’m going to be building death rays. So yeah, maybe I can genetically engineer an army of…of…swans and control them with nanites and pheromones.”

Wade blinked. “Er, swans?”

“Swans are nasty and mean. I got attacked by some in Central Park.”

“Swans.”

“Yes.” Peter lifted his chin. “My army of attack swans.”

“Just not seeing swans as great minions.”

Peter lazily waved a hand. “Hmph, if I’m the supervillain I don’t need smart minions, just ones I can control, right?”

Wade didn’t think Peter had a good idea what a supervillain was. “I guess? I’d just think you’d want something more intimidating so that people would leave you alone and you could make, I dunno, diseases and things?”

“Swans are territorial. Trust me, no one’s getting past them. And then I have plenty of time to cook up evil diseases and cures.”

“See that’s more – cures?”

Peter nodded so earnestly that Wade worried. “Right! If I create the diseases and then the cures I can first wipe out significant portions of the population secretly and then miraculously save the remainder of the population and they make me world leader in gratitude and I get anything I want.”

“What if someone else solves the disease first?”

“Oh, hmm. Yeah, that would be a problem. Maybe I would need a death ray just in case. You know, backup.”

There was some cheering in the background, and Wade looked up to see what had caused the commotion. And then froze.

**

Peter followed Wade’s glance and groaned. “I usually like these things, but not on me!” He hid his face in his hands, peeking out between his fingers at the video on the giant scoreboard. Oh hell, the cameraman was one of those guys who’d leave it on you until you kissed, and it was trained on him and Wade. They must have thought he and Wade were together. “They usually move on if you – Wade?” he asked sitting up in alarm as he saw Wade’s reaction. Nothing pinged on his spider-sense other than the same low-level background thrum, so what had happened?

Wade pressed back into the chair, turned his face, actively trying to hide, and Peter was close enough to hear a little keening whine from him. Three things flashed through his mind in quick succession.

One: Wade had never taken off the hood because obviously he was sensitive about his looks and trying to hide.

Two: The way the crowd was now cheering for them if they didn’t kiss the camera was going to be on them until they did or the game started again.

Three: He spent his entire evenings calculating angles and he was on the wrong side of Wade to block him from view of the camera even if they did kiss.

Bonus: Wade was clearly about to panic, and Peter was sure Wade in a panic was going to be dangerous to a lot of people around them, given how he’d earlier gone for a weapon when startled.

The obvious solution took care of both problems at once; protect Wade, protect everyone around them. The same instincts that made him fling himself through a storm of bullets sent him climbing into Wade’s lap so he’d block the camera. He put his head against Wade’s and whispered reassuringly, “Don’t worry, they can’t see you now. You’re safe.”

He hadn’t expected the death grip as Wade latched onto him, but it didn’t hurt and frankly even if it did, a few bruises from a strong grip were not going to kill him. Then, so the crowd got what they wanted, he turned Wade’s face towards him, trying to look as supportive as he could, and gently kissed him, making sure to keep himself blocking most of the camera angle on them as he did.

He really didn’t expect Wade’s reaction to being kissed; he didn’t expect Wade’s lips to feel so good against his, to like the soft intake of breath, or that he’d enjoy the way the other man’s panicked whine turned into a whimper of pleasure. Then Wade parted his lips and Peter didn’t hesitate, gently darting his tongue into Wade’s mouth. He wanted to project that he was in control, and that Wade didn’t need to worry; from the way Wade’s grip slowly loosened he thought was succeeding.

Then Wade started to kiss him back, hesitantly, letting Peter keep control but taking part now as opposed to simply accepting, and Peter’s heart skipped a beat at how wonderful it was to feel Wade’s trust in the embrace. He stopped worrying about it and sank wholeheartedly into the kiss, putting his arms around Wade and pulling him close as if kissing him was the only thing in the entire world that mattered.

In the moment, it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kudos and encouragement and reading so far! I'm still editing out the ending chapters of the fic, so I may slow down a bit in posting after this.


	4. A baseball game is simply a nervous breakdown divided into nine innings.- Earl Wilson

Wade had no idea what to do. One moment he’d been well on his way to a full-blown panic attack; the next Peter was literally on top of him, kissing him as if Wade was the most important thing in his life. The part that had Wade confused and off-kilter was that it was all to protect him from the camera. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had acted to guard him; he was usually the biggest predator in the room. The unstoppable Deadpool. Even if they killed him he just got back up again. 

Who the fuck was this guy?

He honestly thought he was delusional at first, that he was still on camera and just disassociated into a fantasy, except he couldn’t think of a time when he’d ever hallucinated someone trying to keep him safe. He was surprised at how comforting it felt to relax and just let Peter shield him. When the younger man finally broke the kiss, he wrapped his arms around him, not wanting him to return to his seat yet.

It took Wade two tries to get out the word, “Camera?”

“Long gone.” That was Weasel, who along with MJ, was simply staring at them. “Pretty much the moment Bambi crawled into your lap the camera moved on.” Wade sighed in relief, finally relaxing in Peter’s arms.

“You okay now?” Peter asked, resting his forehead against his. “I’ve got you if you aren’t.”

He said the first thing that came to mind. “If I’d known I was getting a lap dance, I’d have worn a skirt to game.”

Peter chuckled, but didn’t move, and Wade realized it was because he could tell Wade was still shaking. He had no idea what he’d done to deserve a rescuer but fuck-all if he wasn’t appreciative. “I’d like you in a skirt, I think. I bet you’d look sexy.” Wade made a little mewling noise and buried his face against Peter’s chest. There was no way, with Peter in his lap, that he’d miss how much he liked hearing Peter would like him in a skirt.

“Oh,” said Peter, starting to blush.

“Ahem.” All four of them looked up to see a member of stadium security. “Sir, you need to return to your seat or I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

Wade whimpered and clutched Peter tighter as he started to climb off his lap, and Peter shushed him. Shushed him! “I’ll be right next to you Wade, it’s okay.” Wade swallowed, certain that letting go of Peter would not make anything okay in this moment. 

Wait, the guy said they’d have to leave! “Peter.” Wade looked up at him and then nodded towards the security guard. Peter frowned, looking confused. Eyes widened as he got it, and with a grin, leaned in to kiss Wade again. This time Wade responded immediately as Peter wrapped around him, deciding he liked letting the younger man take the lead as much the second time.

“Sirs, please.”

Wade had to swallow a laugh as Weasel figured out what he was doing. “Oh no you don’t Wade! That’s cheating! You are still going to owe me!”

A second guard, then a third, joined the first, and Peter and Wade relented, letting themselves get thrown out of the game at the top of the seventh inning, Wade keeping hold of Peter’s hand the entire time.

**

A long row of trees in a raised bed lined the sidewalk outside the stadium. Wade collapsed with laughter on the wide stone retaining of the tree bed. “Weasel may actually try to kill me,” he said. “Oh fucking hell, he’s going to be so mad. I was supposed to be getting punished by being stuck through an entire baseball game.”

Peter sat down on the stone wall next to him, and Wade rearranged so he was on his back, his head in Peter’s lap. “By the way…Thank you. You are officially my Knight in Jeans and T-Shirt.”

Peter tried to shrug, feeling a bit of a blush at the thanks. At least when people thanked him as Spider-Man the mask hid his face. “It was… you needed help. I wasn’t going to let you panic when I could help you.” He let his arm rest on Wade’s chest, smiling when Wade wrapped both hands around his forearm. “I mean, you’ve been really great the whole game, you didn’t deserve me just ignoring distress.”

“Lots of people wouldn’t have helped.”

“Yeah, well, I guess I’m not lots of people.” He squeezed one of Wade’s hands. “For example, I do not normally climb into the laps of men I’ve just met and kiss them on public cameras. And by not normally I mean never. So yeah.”

Wade sat back up at that. “Hey – are you okay, then?”

Was he okay? He wasn’t sure. He’d never had a relationship that moved this quickly and this wasn’t even a relationship, this was a random stranger he met at a baseball game. Flirting had just been to pass the boredom. This was well beyond flirting for the sake of flirting. Or maybe it wasn’t.

“Peter?”

Was it? “I…don’t know. You were flirting out of boredom through most of that, right? I mean – if you wanted to just, walk away or not see me again I would get it. I wasn’t expecting – I mean you don’t owe me anything…”

A stricken expression crossed Wade’s face and Peter reached for him, cupping his cheek before he could pull away. “Ah hell, Wade, that’s not me telling you no, that’s me expecting you to tell me go away.”

Wade stilled as Peter brushed his fingers over his cheek. The scars felt strange, but not bad; just an added dimension to Wade’s skin. He watched Wade lean into his hand, eyes shutting in pleasure, and Peter smiled. He was gorgeous. 

Wade took a deep breath. “Look, I keep weird hours. I work out of town without warning. I’m not exactly someone you take home to meet the family. I haven’t had a real relationship in a while and I don’t know how good at them I am. And I’m not usually easy to get along with and often suck at being a human being.” He finally opened his eyes, meeting Peter’s.

Peter shrugged. “Okay,” he said, and leaned over to kiss Wade, nibbling on the man’s bottom lip. Pulled back. “I work in a lab, I keep weird hours, too; I have obligations I have to keep. We either fit each other in or we don’t, but you’ve been a lot of fun all day and I’d like to at least try if you want to? And if you don’t and you just need the comfort right now because you’re still spooked that’s okay too?” He looked at Wade hopefully, a faint blush tinging his cheeks. “But, I really do want to see you in a skirt.”

“Ah, fuck, I gave you fair warning,” Wade said, and hugged Peter, nuzzling into his shoulder. Peter frowned, the odd feeling of familiarity back. But then Wade looked up at him, and Peter kissed him again, and forgot anything but the feeling of the man in his arms.

**

All too soon it felt like the crowds were letting out. Wade sat there on the low wall with Peter’s head resting against his thigh, running his fingers through Peter’s hair and enjoying far too much the pleased little sounds Peter made as he did. How the fuck did a baseball game that took forever to get through suddenly end so damn quickly? With reluctance, he took his hand out of Peter’s hair, shivering as the man mewled in protest. “Sorry, game’s over – I want your number before Weasel finds me and starts yelling.” He found his phone in his pocket and dropped it on Peter’s chest. “Here, program your number in,” he said as Weasel and MJ walked up to them, MJ carrying Peter’s book.

Peter got his number saved and sent himself a text from Wade’s phone, checking he got it on his cell before standing up and handing the phone back. “Did the Yankees at least win?” he asked as MJ gave Wade a steely glare.

“No. So disappointing. I hate losing to Boston.”

Weasel kicked Wade’s ankle. “C’mon, you at least owe me the Uber home.” He looked at Peter and MJ. “Have a nice life.”

Wade sighed, and stood, giving Peter a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “I will text, I promise.” He looked at MJ. “I really will, I promise you don’t have to kill me.”

She crossed her arms. “I better not.”

Peter gave him a little wave as he trotted off after Weasel. Weasel started berating Wade as they got out of earshot.

“You are absolutely the worst ever, Wade. Cheat to get out of the game, don’t buy me souvenirs, and somehow you got a new toy? How long do you think that’s going to possibly last?” Weasel got right into his face. “What’s he gonna do when he finds out you’re Deadpool?” he hissed.

“I know!” Wade glanced back over his shoulder at Peter and MJ, grinned, and then shrugged at Weasel. “I know,” he repeated with a sigh. “I’m sure I’ll scare him off eventually, but I’m not saying no while he stays.”

“Fucking romantic.”

**

“Do you know what you’re doing, Peter?” They stood outside her apartment; Peter wanted to be sure she’d gotten home safely.

“No, I don’t, but…” He sighed. “I haven’t felt this attracted to someone in a long time, MJ. I’ll give it a try. I don’t expect it to work out and be forever and some kind of happily ever after. Honestly I suspect once we’re not stuck in a baseball game and him needing rescue he’ll come to his senses and that’s that.”

She hugged him. “You really deserve to be able to hope for yourself.”

He kissed her forehead. “Maybe one of these days, but for right now, being realistic hurts less.”

“Well, you tell me if he breaks your heart.”

He laughed. “Yes, MJ.”

Another hug, and he left her to head to his own apartment.

While he waited for the bus he pulled out his cell phone, started to text, and stopped. He had no idea what he wanted to say. The phone vibrated and he nearly dropped it, fumbling several times before his spider-stickiness caught it securely.

_Wade: Are you there?_

_Wade: Hey. I was thinking, do you want to get together tomorrow? Is that too soon? I have something in the afternoon I don’t want to cancel because it took a long time to schedule it originally, but I have time for lunch before if you’re interested?_

_Wade: It’s okay if you had plans already I understand._

_Wade: But I’m reaaaallly hoping you don’t because then we could have plans. If you’re interested. But you probably already do have plans._

Oh hell, he was as bad as Deadpool. Peter grinned down at his phone. Another message had already appeared.

_Wade: Is this the right number? Oh, you’re probably still with your friend. Sorry! Wasn’t thinking._

_Wade: But seriously, tomorrow, lunch?_

_ Peter: Yes, I’m here. No, I don’t have lunch plans. I do have afternoon plans, though. Yes, I’ll get lunch with you. Yes, this is the right number._

Peter hopped onto the bus, swiped his card, and hung onto one of the overhead straps when he didn’t spot a seat. 

_Wade: Oh good. So when is too early for lunch? Oh wait it’s Sunday it’s brunch, right?_

_Peter: I don’t know? We can just find a diner that serves breakfast all day if you really want breakfast food?_

_Wade: Brunch! I like breakfast food._

_Peter: Okay, we can….dammit, I missed my stop. Pick a place and text me._

Peter reached up and hit the strip to request a stop, sighing as now he had to backtrack. He made it back to his place and lounged out on his couch, pulling the lone pillow to his chest, and stared at the ceiling. 

What was he doing? Sure, he meant what he told MJ; he hadn’t felt this attracted to anyone in a long time. The only one close was Deadpool. Talking to Wade was like talking to someone he’d known forever and it was comfortable. It was nice someone got his sense of humor and wasn’t worried he’d be too smart. 

Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad to hope a little. 

** 

The first thing Wade did when he got home was put on his suit. Not until he’d armed himself properly and encased himself in armor did the last twitches of his earlier panic fade. He felt safe again. Nearly as good as Peter’s soothing voice telling him he was okay. He looked at himself in the mirror of the bathroom; red and black leather from head to toe, weapons bristling everywhere. Deadpool. 

This was going to be a terrible idea. Smart, sexy scientists should not be dating Deadpool. 

Still…he really wanted to see Peter’s face if he did show up in a skirt. 

He found his cell in the living room and located the new number, a smile crossing his face as he saw Peter had named himself Cute But Awkward. 

Before he could think better of it, he’d typed out: _Hey, are you there? _

__

__

Waited. Paced around the living room. Opened the refrigerator door. Shut the door. Thought about microwaving popcorn. Realized he had no popcorn. Wondered if aliens stole his popcorn. Looked along the shelves. And his microwave. Had he owned a microwave? Checked the cell phone. No answer yet. 

Started texting Peter about brunch, while going into the bedroom and pulling out all his skirts, trying to decide which he wanted to wear. 

_Peter: Okay, we can….dammit, I missed my stop. Pick a place and text me._

Pick a place? Wade looked around at his piles of clothing and realized he’d taken everything out of his closet and his dresser. Fuck, he can’t even pick an outfit. The camera had spooked him worse than he’d thought. 

_Wade: You choose, I’ll just show up and be sexy._

It took longer than he expected for the answer, but he knew of the place suggested and sent agreement for the date. Date! An actual date. He considered his piles of clothes and decided he didn’t have the brain currently to handle clothing. Instead, he threw himself out the window and went looking for crimes to stop. Criminals were much easier. Just shoot them! If he was lucky, he might even run into Webs. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll notice I've nailed down the final chapters and can now give an accurate chapter count. I also decided the language meant I should probably update the rating to mature. 
> 
> Next Chapter gets a little rocky, but fear not, the two idiots really are in love with each other.


	5. There are three things you can do in a baseball game. You can win, or you can lose, or it can rain. - Casey Stengel

Peter landed on the roof of Deadpool’s building and then gave himself a minute to pace back and forth. His morning brunch with Wade had been surprisingly good, even if the man hadn’t shown up in a skirt. They’d managed to avoid any awkwardness, mostly because Wade had brought with him a list of things to talk about on a first date, taken from some magazine which might have been from the 1950s. They’d spent the meal poking fun at each option.

He hadn’t wanted to leave.

He’d promised Deadpool, though, and to be fair to himself, he was looking forward to the afternoon. He perched on an air vent and pulled out his phone.

_Spider-Man: I don’t know whether to crawl down the wall or come up an elevator._

_Deadpool: Window! I’ll wave from the right one._

He walked around the edge of the building until he spotted Deadpool. Unable to resist the chance to show off, he backflipped off the edge, fell past the window with a little wave, and flicked an anchoring web above Deadpool’s head. He let the swing of the line throw him back up into the air, and with a second flip he landed on the windowsill as his host stepped back quickly to give him room.

“Nine out of ten!”

“Only nine?”

Deadpool grinned under his mask. “Well, if you’d blown me a kiss on the way past, that would have made it eleven.”

“I’ll remember that for next time.”

Peter hadn’t been in Deadpool’s apartment before and he glanced around. “Is there a reason we’re in the bathroom? And you have Spider-Man shower curtains? I don’t know if I’m honored or freaked out.”

“Eh, it’s the only other window than the bedroom and I thought that might be a little forward even for me. ‘Cause once I got you in there I’d be looking to play other kinds of games.”

“That…is a point. Now are you letting me out? I’m assuming you don’t keep a gaming console in here.”

Deadpool turned and opened the door, gesturing through the apartment as if giving a tour. “Bedroom, you’ve seen the bathroom, weapons room, weapons closet, living room, kitchen! Ta-da!”

Peter took the chance to look things over. Deadpool’s place was nicer than he’d hoped, but still felt lived in. Knickknacks and books filled the shelves, there was a comforter thrown over the couch; even a dining room table, although it was covered in firearms. He hadn’t expected quite so many unicorn posters – or Spider-Man action figures – but the couch looked plush and comfy and the tv was startlingly large. And he had every console Peter wished he owned himself. “So, what are we playing?” he asked as he crouched in front of the shelves holding video game cases. When there was no immediate answer, he looked over his shoulder to see Deadpool more nervous than he’d ever seen before. Since he’d never seen Deadpool nervous, it was an unexpected sight. “Deadpool? You all right?”

“Actually, Webs, can you do me favor?”

“I – er – yes?”

Deadpool cocked his head. “Wow, agreeable. Without even knowing what I’m asking. Man, if only I had planned on taking advantage of that!”

Peter just sighed. “Favor? Although I now reserve the right to say no?”

“Right, right. Can you tell me what you think of an outfit or two before we start? See, I kinda met someone and I want to dress up for lunch tomorrow, but I don’t want to be too dressed up and I’m not having a good time making up my own mind.”

It took a second to parse through that. “You met someone?”

Deadpool made a little fluttering motion with his hands. “He’s fucking adorable, Webs. Nerdy, too, like you. So, I’m hoping you’ll help out with which dress to wear? I’ve got it to three and now I can’t decide again so tell me what I look best in, okay?”

“I – er – okay?”

Deadpool bounced before heading to his bedroom to change, so Peter got up and curled into the corner of the back and armrest of the couch. He found himself wrestling with his feelings while he waited. Always assuming that the merc hadn’t accidentally fallen in love with a taco truck – and it was a possibility – Peter was feeling a bit envious, and that immediately made him feel guilty. Shouldn’t he be happy for his friend? Besides, he’d just been to lunch with Wade! Envy shouldn’t even be a thing right now.

Frowning at himself, he settled back into the couch. At least he had experience at impromptu fashion shows; MJ used to practice runway walks down any hallway they’d happen to be in and he’d picked up a distressing amount of fashion knowledge from her over the years. Might as well put it to use for Deadpool.

When Deadpool came back out into the living room, his breath caught in his throat. He was wearing a black sweater dress like a second skin, the oversized neck pulled up into a hoodie over his mask. Peter swallowed, his eyes following the lines of Deadpool’s body, every fantasy he’d ever had about the man demanding attention. That chest was perfection. The cut of the dress left his shoulders bare before slouching into sleeves that draped down his arms, and then he didn’t even get to the mini-skirt length hemline because he didn’t think he’d ever seen Deadpool’s skin before – certainly not like this – and…

Peter nearly stopped breathing a second time.

Deadpool was…Wade?

“Uh, Webs? This good or bad?” Wade ran his hands over his sides, smoothing the lines of the dress; the habit looked nervous. 

“Deadpool…how did you meet this…someone?” Peter asked, hoping against hope the answer was in a bar somewhere. 

“Oh, heh, it was so funny, I got stuck paying a debt by going to a baseball game and ended up sitting next to this drop-dead cutie. And he was bored and we were talking and – Webs? You okay?”

He was not okay in the slightest. Peter couldn’t take it, his stomach knotting as he listened, his arms curling around himself. Deadpool was Wade. No wonder he’d felt so comfortable with him at the baseball game. 

His first thought was to pretend he didn’t know, pass it off as shock at Deadpool’s skin; certainly Deadpool would believe it. The idea shot guilt through him. He couldn’t do that. He had to let Wade know; it just wasn’t right to hide it and as much as he didn’t want to reveal his identity, it wouldn’t be fair to Wade. He gulped in air, the mask stifling him. He’d never wanted to tell Deadpool about his crush; but Wade liked Peter and Deadpool liked Spider-Man. 

Maybe this wouldn’t be bad. Parker luck had to give way at some point, right?

“Webs, you’re starting to freak me the fuck out here.”

He reached up and took off his mask.

“I’m guessing his name is Peter,” he said, his face bright red and his voice shaking.

**

Wade’s brain came to a full stop, and he blinked. Peter’s head was in the Spider-Man suit. He blinked again, but the scene didn’t change. He reached up and thwacked himself in the side of the skull a few times. Nope, Peter was still there, on his couch, blushing so scarlet there was no way it wasn’t Peter.

Peter was Spider-Man.

Wade sat down, right where he was, landing on the floor in a thump. Stared at Peter’s face.

What the ever-loving fucking hell?

They stared at each other, waiting for the other to speak, and Wade tried to find a thought in his head that made sense, because right now nothing did. How could Peter be Spider-Man? How could he have not recognized… He had to have been recognized. Anger and embarrassment welled up inside of him. At best Webs seemed to like him, but he knew often the hero only tolerated him. After all, there were days Wade could barely tolerate himself. So how could Peter seem so into him? It was such a huge disconnect that the only thing Wade could imagine was it was a sick joke.

“You knew! You have to have known,” Wade finally said. Spider-Man didn’t love him, so there was no way Peter would.

“Known? Wade I’ve never seen you out of your costume. I mean, I thought you seemed familiar but there’s – whoa! What are you doing?”

Wade twisted, reaching under the couch, and pulled out a handgun, pointing it at Peter, who leapt onto the back of the sofa and hunkered down in a classic Spidey pose. Just a terrible, horrible joke. Right.

“You’ve seen my skin; you’ve watched me heal, dammit! There’s no way you didn’t know that whole fucking game.”

“What? Wade – Deadpool – I swear I had no –”

Deadpool twitched the aim to the side, intending a warning shot, and pulled the trigger; watched as Spider-Man jumped just slightly before, landing on the ceiling. He re-trained the gun on him. “GET OUT!”

“Can we just actually talk? Because I really think if we just talk you might see there’s no way I knew who you were!”

“There is nothing to talk about! You’ve been turning me down for nearly a year as Spider-Man! How the hell can that possibly be different if you’re Peter? Get the fuck out or I’ll actually shoot to fucking hit you.” For emphasis he shot again, closer this time, watching as Spider-Man’s reflexes sent him dodging out of the way.

“No, wait, listen to me!” Peter held his hands up in a placating gesture. “I get why you might think what you’re thinking but I really had no – yikes!” He had to leap over the couch as Wade fired once more, this time dead-centered on Peter’s chest. “Fine!” he shouted, and pulled on his mask, stomping over to the door, slamming it shut behind him.

Wade kept his gun trained on the door, gulping in air, trying very hard to keep his mind together while everything spun out of control.

**

“Fine!” Peter shut the door hard enough he could feel the vibrations in the hallway, and he took a breath, trying to discern which way was out. What the hell had just happened? Not once in the entire time he’d known him had Deadpool ever pulled a weapon on him. And you’d think that if anyone was going to be happy to find out Spider-Man was Peter or Peter was Spider-Man it would have been Deadpool! And he wouldn’t even talk about it. Parker luck, start to finish.

He turned around and glared at the door. Dammit, Wade might not want to talk, and might not want him after all, but he was going to listen!

He bounded off the opposite wall onto the top of the Wade’s door, using his weight and spider-strength to break it into the apartment; launched into a flip off the falling door as bullets chewed into the wood right where he’d been, and landed on Deadpool’s chest, letting his weight drive the bigger man down. A few thwips secured Wade’s arms to the floor and with a quick twist Spider-Man locked his legs in place with more webbing. He got his feet to either side of Wade’s chest and stared down at the Deadpool mask, and listened to Wade swearing at him, before bending over and yanking the mask off to web his mouth shut.

“You’re going to listen, dammit. What is wrong with you? I had no clue you were Deadpool. Sure, I’ve seen you heal, but it doesn’t magically remove the fact that we’re out at night, in badly lit places most of the time, and you’re usually drenched in blood by that point! It doesn’t exactly make your skin easy to see. Or that when it was more than gunshot wounds you didn’t want to be looked at and so I wouldn’t! Something you generally appreciate!”

Wade growled something unintelligible at him.

“And as for turning you down, I’ve fucking watched you try to hook up with a streetlight, Wade! I half-thought you were joking all the time! And honestly, the rest of the time I thought you were just into me for the mask. Do you have any idea how many people are more interested in Spider-Man than me?”

He pulled off his own mask, rubbing at his eyes. He must look a mess, but he didn’t care. Wade rolled his eyes and Peter crouched so he was practically sitting on Wade's chest. "Oh, and let’s just talk about that. Remember Black Cat? Who dumped me just before we met? Did you ever hear why we broke up? Because I was only good enough for her with my mask on. Hell, the first time I took it off for her she begged me to put it back on! So, you're going to have to forgive me for feeling the need to be a bit distrustful of another superhero with a crush on Spider-Man!"

Wade's eyes softened a moment in sympathy before narrowing and Peter wondered what was going through his head. "And then I met this really great guy and he's into me, not my alter-ego, and suddenly it turns out he's my best friend who I'm half in love with already but when I try to tell him, he starts shooting at me the moment I unmask! Complete and total win." He watched Wade wince and felt a stab of satisfaction. 

“Let's also not forget that while my possible new boyfriend is trying to decide what to wear to lunch tomorrow, he's also still flirting with my alter-ego, which means either way…” He took a deep breath, the anger draining out of him, leaving him feeling defeated and alone. “Either way, you aren't taking me seriously and… screw you." Peter stood up and pulled his mask back on.

"I will find a way to pay you for the door," he said, picking it up and propping it back into the door frame at an odd angle. "But I don't get a paycheck until Friday so you'll have to wait." He turned Deadpool's mask over in his hands a few times before dropping it next to Wade. "The webbing will dissolve in about two hours. Have a nice life."

Spider-Man stomped down the hallway to the bathroom and let himself out the window. He spun out webbing and swung away, not caring where he was going. He should just go home but the last thing he wanted to do was be in his empty, depressing little apartment. He ended up perched high above Times Square, watching the tourists and traffic and of all things the Mets losing a baseball game on one of the huge screens. 

He’d thought Black Cat’s reaction had been bad; Deadpool had just freaking shot at him. He started to shake. His best friend had freaking shot at him. He shook his head, feeling tears in his eyes, and with a frustrated scream he flung himself back into the air, webbing his way towards MJ’s. It wasn’t fair to her, but she’d at least let him cry on her shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone overreacts! Whee!


	6. Progress always involves risks. You can’t steal second base and keep your foot on first. - Frederick B. Wilcox

An hour of inactivity did wonders for calming him down.

All he could do right now was stare at the ceiling, which was boring, chew on webbing, which tasted absolutely disgusting, and think about how much he didn't like being on the floor. The floor was uncomfortable. He was going to need to put posters on the ceiling in case this happened again. 

He struggled to laugh around the mouthful of webbing. Who was he kidding? This was never going to happen again. Webs was never, ever going to speak to him after this. 

He'd forgotten about Black Cat. He didn't know her; the kinds of jobs he got hired for were not the kinds of jobs that hired her. But she'd come through the Hellhouse once in a while to see if there were gold cards needing her unique talents. She'd been in the bar shortly after word had gone around that she was screwing Spider-Man; everyone had been buying her drinks trying to convince her to reveal his identity. He remembered the way she'd laughed and said, "Nothing you're all offering is worth the reveal."

He’d thought at the time that it had been kind of sweet of her. Peter's side made him realize what she meant was the reveal wasn't a fair trade for the offers because she thought that little of him. 

Fucking bitch. He should go put a bullet through her chest. 

No wonder MJ had warned him away. Wade wondered what other breakups had been bad; he recalled MJ had said there'd been a few rough relationships. He had the feeling his name had just been added to that list. He’d probably set a record; worst boyfriend after one date.

He’d have shot himself by now, except he couldn’t move. Lacking an easy way to avoid thinking, he was left wishing he had a way to undo this afternoon; to have listened to Peter instead of shooting at him. He still didn’t understand what happened or how Peter hadn’t possibly known he was Deadpool, but now that he was past the initial shock he was starting to think he was an idiot. 

What was he going to do? How would he fix this now that he'd really screwed up?

He had no idea. The only thing he was sure of was that he wanted to try. 

It took two and a half hours for the webbing to dissolve enough to let him free. Two and a half hours while his brain churned through ideas and discarded them. Nothing felt like it had a chance of success. 

He climbed to his feet, smoothing out the dress, and went looking for his phone in the bedroom. He had to fucking try something, at least.

_Wade: Hey, Peter, I’m an ass and I’m sorry._

Blocked number.

He frowned, looked around, and found his other phone.

_Deadpool: Webs, I’m an ass, and I’m so sorry._

Blocked number.

Fuck.

Punched Peter’s number into his Deadpool phone.

_Deadpool: Peter, I’m an absolute ass and I’m sorry._

After a few minutes there was a little read receipt. That was it.

_Deadpool: Please let me try._

Blocked number.

Dammit!

He threw the phone into the wall, fell backwards into a mound of clothes on the bed, and stared up at yet another boring ceiling. Falling into a pile of clothes wasn’t much better than being on the floor. He didn’t bother trying to put Spider-Man’s number into his Wade phone. He was so fucking worthless. 

After an hour where his thoughts got darker and darker, he found one of his phones and called Cable. “Nathan.”

“Wade.”

“I need a ‘slider.”

There was a long pause as Deadpool sank back into the clothing piles. “What did you screw up.”

List of things he didn’t want to admit, starting with, “New boyfriend.”

The line went to dial tone. Wade stared at the screen and sighed. He probably should have said Spider-Man. That might have worked. Now it would have to be the hard way. He dialed a different pre-set number.

“Weasel. Get me out of the country.”

“What the hell happened to you, Princess?”

He groaned. “Just find me a fucking job out of the country. Don’t care where, don’t care what.”

There were the sounds of keys clicking as Weasel typed. “How’s Tokyo? Far enough?”

Outer space wasn’t far enough.

“Yeah, that’ll do,” was what he answered, though. “Oh, and I’m gonna need a new place, and cleaning services here.”

There was a pause. “You wrecked another place?”

“I wrecked something all right.”

**

MJ handed him a caramel macchiato and sat down across from him in the little café they both liked. “I’m sorry, Peter. I hoped…well.”

“Yeah, me too.” He turned his drink around several times on the table. Rubbed his face with his hand. “But that’s my life. Hope and not much else.”

She leaned forward, whispering over the table, “I still can’t believe Wade is Deadpool. I can’t believe I threatened Deadpool at a baseball game.”

“Lucky me. Not the first time I managed to fall in love with my best friend, right?” She hmphed at him, and he had the grace to look apologetic. “Sorry, I’m in a mood.”

“I suppose I will forgive you under the circumstances.”

He nodded his thanks and turned the cup around again. “You know, the worst part is, if I’d just said something to Deadpool about how I felt about him I’d probably have a boyfriend right now. But I was so worried I’d screw up the friendship that in the end I managed to lose that, too.” He sighed. “I’m a piece of work.”

“Oh, Peter, stop it. From what little you’ve said, he overreacted. You…didn’t so much overreact as just get…really upset. And then you both overreacted some more. Just tell him you’re sorry and try talking again.” She poured her creamer into her coffee and used a stirrer to gently swirl it. 

Another sigh. “I went looking for him, but he’s not anywhere I know of. I think he’s out of town.” 

“Then text him or call him.”

“Yeah, I should.” He blinked at the thought and pressed the heels of his hands into eyes to keep from crying, which he’d been doing too much of over the last several days. 

MJ threw a sugar packet at him. “None of that, or you’ll have to come help me shop.”

He groaned and managed a weak smile. “A fate worse than death. Fine, I shall try to be less maudlin.”

“That’s the spirit! Now--” She picked up his phone off the table and handed it to him. “Text him already!”

**

Wade’s phone buzzed as he checked his ammunition. He glanced at the screen, fully expecting to see they were from Weasel making sure he’d landed all right and remembered why he was in Japan and what he was supposed to do. He swiped his Deadpool phone open to tell Weasel he knew he was in Tokyo and was getting ready to do the job.

The texts from Spider-Man’s phone. And then from Peter’s phone.

He stared at them a long moment and then opened them to read.

_Spider-Man: I hired a company to go fix your door. You’re welcome._

He shut his eyes against how cold that felt. Only that there were more texts kept him throwing the phone out the window. He opened the next one. 

_Peter: And if you think admitting you’re an ass and saying you’re sorry is enough, you’re wrong. Sorry just means you feel bad. I’m sorry too, but you know what? I didn’t do anything to deserve you shooting at me, and you know it. So if you really, really want to try to salvage whatever the hell we are to each other, figure out more than sorry, Wade. _

He hesitated over answering. He didn’t need this right now. 

_Spider-Man: You’re probably on a mission, aren’t you._

He checked the time, made sure the phones were on silent, and headed out for the Tokyo Dome. He got a few looks but most people ignored him as he walked through the streets. Ah, Japan. Contrary to pop culture videos, cosplayers weren’t exactly everywhere; but no one really cared when someone in costume was wandering around. Two schoolgirls stopped him to take a selfie with him, which was cute and slightly creepy and he hoped they did, in fact, know who he was. He’d feel terrible if they’d gotten pics with Deadpool and then found out he wasn’t who they’d thought.

Pulled out his phone to look for anything new from Weasel.

_Spider-Man: Or you got your phone shot again._

_Spider-Man: Or you got you shot again._

_Peter: Or you’re ignoring me._

_Peter: Okay, sure, whatever._

Ah, hell. He really did not have time to deal with Peter. He had a job to do. He was on the other side of the world specifically to avoid having to think about what he should do about Peter. What else was he supposed to do but apologize? That’s what you do when you screw up, you admit it and apologize. And…what then? He couldn’t undo trying to shoot Peter. He can’t undo shouting or not understanding. 

He started re-reading the texts again, wondering if there was any kind of a hint. Gave himself a shake and got the phones into pouches. He had people to kill at Tokyo Dome. He needed to focus. 

And fuck Weasel sideways for setting him up a job at a fucking baseball game. Fortunately, his sponsor had provided a ticket to the sold-out event between the Yomiuri Giants and the Chunichi Dragons, and even here people barely seemed to think much of him wandering through the crowds. But baseball was now entwined in his mind with Peter. And he was trying very hard to do this job and not fucking think about Spider-Man. Who kept sending texts, which wasn’t helping at all.

By the time he’d finished getting into the Dome, buying souvenirs, signing autographs for unexpected fans, shooting his way into one of the private boxes, losing the sourvenirs and shooting the people he’d been sent to kill, he’d taken enough bullets that both his phones were, in fact, broken. He couldn’t answer Peter if he wanted.

He got back to the hotel, changed, checked out, and found another hotel to check into while he waited for his flight home. He flipped through channels on the television, settling on a game show that seemed to involve suspending people over vats of boiling water and lowering them just enough to make ramen. Everyone seemed to be enjoying when their teammates slipped and dropped them into the vats. Well, except for the poor people being boiled with the noodles.

He had no idea how to fix this situation. He couldn’t text or call Peter because he didn’t have the numbers. Whenever his phone got broken he just had Spider-Man give it to him again. He couldn’t even look up the number, assuming Peter’s was listed, since he didn’t know Peter’s last name. All he had was that he was a bio-chemist, Spider-Man, and had a friend named MJ. Maybe Weasel would be able to figure out something with that, but then what would he do once he found Peter again? If an apology wasn’t enough, he had no fucking clue what would be. Tacos? Fuck, now he wanted tacos and there were really no good taco places in Japan. There were these weird taco-Japanese fusion places but they weren’t the same thing.

He sighed and slouched in the chair as yet another contestant got dipped into boiling water. Was it worth trying to fix this? He’d met Peter basically once, and he wasn’t wrong – Spider-Man had spent a lot of time trying to keep Deadpool off of him. 

But Peter had texted him. That meant something was worth trying to salvage, right? And Weasel could find anyone given enough motivation. So, plan. Get Home. Get Weasel to find Peter. Do something to get Peter to talk to him again, since probably by the time he got home Peter would have given up due to the lack of texts. Involve daisies somewhere, because Peter had said he likes daisies.

As plans went, it sucked. It wasn’t going to work.

But it was the best he had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? There's a plan! 
> 
> Granted it's Deadpool's plan...
> 
> But it's a plan!
> 
> Also forgot to mention, the game show described is an actual Japanese game show I watched over two decades ago and never understood then, and still don't. I didn't make it up.


	7. It ain’t over ’til it’s over. - Yogi Berra

Peter carried his written lab notes to his desk so he could update his reports; he stopped in his tracks when he saw the flowers. He looked around at the other workstations and then back. 

Daisies.

Red and black dyed daisies. 

Why were there daisies on his desk? He put his folders and tablet down and looked over the flowers, locating a card. Just his name on the front. He opened it.

_I love you because you’re the only one who ever waits to make sure I get back up again when I’m hurt or dead._

No signature, but the flower colors made it obvious who’d sent them. He scowled and dropped the daisies in the trash. After how long he’d waited for any answer from Wade, getting flowers was just painful. Even red and black daisies. Maybe especially red and black daisies. He looked around, but there was no sign of Wade or Deadpool that he could see, and his spider-sense was quiet. Checked his phone, but no messages. Tried Wade and Deadpool’s old numbers but got a disconnected message. He sighed and sat down to review his notes.

On his way home, he fished the note card out of the trash and tucked it into his pocket, telling himself he couldn’t leave it where anyone could find it. He couldn’t even make himself believe the attempted lie; there were plenty of paper shredders he could have put it into instead. No, he wanted the contact with Wade, however tenuous.

The next day there was another red and black bouquet on his desk and a few curious co-workers wondering who was sending him flowers. 

_I love you because you always let me hug you when I need one, even when you didn’t want to._

He considered dropping this bouquet in the trash as well, but eventually left them on the desk. He was mad at Deadpool, sure. But he did like daisies.

The third day the flowers were red and blue daisies instead of red and black. 

_I love you because I can trust you not to drop me when we swing through the air on patrol._

“How badly did your girlfriend screw up, Parker, to keep sending you flowers?”

Peter slipped the latest card into his pocket. “Boyfriend,” he corrected, not feeling up to trying to describe the complicated relationship. If relationship was even the correct word at this point. He looked over at his lab assistant, “He screwed up badly.”

“Damn, he’s going kinda overkill. You going to forgive him or take out a restraining order?”

Overkill. Heh. That was Deadpool’s style, all right. Peter frowned, considering the question. “I don’t know yet.”

“Ouch.”

Spider-Man went out that night, looking for Deadpool, but he didn’t run into the mercenary. He first checked the apartment, but it was now empty of belongings. He gave up searching after a few more hours. Where-ever Deadpool was, he clearly didn’t want to be found. Most confusing mixed signals he’d ever gotten in a relationship; send him flowers every day but give him no method of reaching out to talk.

Peter sighed, and went back to his own place, to curl up around his phone and wonder if Wade would text at some point. If he could figure out his workplace, surely the man could find his phone number?

The next day brought another vase of daisies in blue and red. 

_I love you because you saw my eyes first and not my skin._

Everyone in the lab was getting involved in the drama. People came to get Peter now whenever the newest batch of flowers were delivered and kept interrupting his work to ask if he’d made up with his boyfriend yet. Fortunately, his boss had become just as invested in the relationship drama as his co-workers. 

Peter started hanging the notes up on the wall in his bedroom so he could read them in the morning before he went to work.

_I love you because you don’t argue about eating tacos seven nights in a row._

Some of them, admittedly, were more romantic than others.

He was surprised when there was a knock on his apartment door Saturday and a delivery man handed him a bouquet of red-dyed daisies. He put them on his coffee table and read the card.

_I love you because you always get my jokes._

MJ smiled when Peter told her about the daisies. “But he gave you no way to contact him?”

“Nope.” Peter shrugged. “I’m left assuming he has some kind of plan.”

She hummed thoughtfully, sipping her coffee. “Do you trust him?”

“I’m mad at him still. But…I miss him.”

“That’s not what I asked, Peter.”

“I don’t know.” He sighed, slouching in his chair. “I want to trust him.”

“Well, I hope he gives you a way to contact him so you can decide.”

Sunday the daisies were dyed blue.

_I love you because you’re brilliant and clever._

Peter smiled as he hung it up with the others on his wall. 

Monday there were no flowers waiting for him when he got in to work, but that was normal so he didn’t think much of it. None showed up by lunchtime, and he had an uneasy feeling in his stomach that was near nausea by mid-day. Had he missed something, something he was supposed to do? Had Wade given up? He hadn’t realized how much he was looking forward to the next bouquet and card.

None had appeared when it was time to go home, leaving him defeated and tired. It felt like everyone on his floor had stopped to see if there were daisies, then asked if he’d made up with his boyfriend when there weren’t. The disapproving and disappointed looks he got when he admitted they hadn’t reconciled were killing him. He wanted to talk to Wade, dammit. It wasn’t his fault he had no way to contact the man! 

“PETER!” One of the lab assistants came running up to him as he prepared to leave for the day. “There’s a guy in the lobby in a dress and he’s carrying daisies so it must be your boyfriend!”

Peter ran for the front lobby, not caring that his co-workers had all followed.

**

Wade paced in the lobby, telling himself to breathe, telling himself everyone was looking at him because he looked good in the dress and was carrying a bouquet of red and black and blue daisies and not because they could see his face. He was clad in a red and black dress that came to mid-thigh, the black starting in the neck and shoulders and fading into red on the hem. He wore opaque black leggings and red ankle boots with it, so at least no one was subjected to his naked legs. It had an oversized neckline that could be pulled up over his head like a hood, which he’d done; but it was sleeveless, and he was wishing he’d worn a jacket over it. With his shoulders and arms bare it was more skin than he liked showing in public; he just hoped Peter liked the look enough to talk.

One of the sets of doors beyond the lobby flew open, and Peter came rushing out, looking around until he spotted Wade, and Wade had to swallow and tell himself firmly to stay put as Peter ran straight for him. He barely had enough time to get the daisies out of the way before Peter squeezed him in a tight hug, and pure relief thrummed through him that something might be rescued from this disaster.

Then Peter pulled back and punched him in the upper chest near his shoulder, and behind him an entire floor of scientists and lab assistants quietly gasped. Wade winced. It hadn’t been full-strength, but there’d been some power behind that. If he’d been a normal human he’d be bruised. “You are the absolute worst,” Peter hissed at him, and all Wade could do was nod. Even angry and whispering furiously at him, Peter was fucking adorable.

“I am.”

“You shot at me!”

“I did. I shouldn’t have.”

“You ran away! For a week!”

Wade nodded again. “I did warn you I suck at being human.” He waited and when Peter just glared up at him, added, “Your co-workers are all staring at us.”

Peter punched his shoulder again, and Wade winced. “My co-workers all think you are the most romantic, wonderful person and I am some kind of heartless monster for not forgiving you already.”

Wade gave him a small, hopeful smile. “You could prove them wrong and forgive me?”

Peter’s glare faltered into a bit of a grin and he sighed. “Stop being so cute; I’m mad at you!” he said, and hugged Wade again, to the sound of romantic sighs from the growing crowd. “How did you find me?”

“Weasel found you through the Bugle connection. Peter and Spider-Man brought up your photography side job. Once he had your last name everything else was simple for Weasel’s level of hacking skills annnnnnd before you worry, he’s already making you harder to find because I paid him.” Actually, when Wade told Weasel his plan Weasel had said it was so fucked up that if it worked he’d hide Peter’s identity for free. Weasel also promised that if it didn’t work he was going to plaster Spider-Man’s secret identity across the internet but Wade didn’t think Peter needed to know that.

Peter nodded into his shoulder, and Wade wrapped his arms around him now that he was feeling more certain about how this was headed. “Look, Peter, I know you said an apology isn’t enough, but I really am sorry. I overreacted a lot. I never should have tried to shoot you.”

“I’m guessing your phones got shot up again?”

“Yes.”

Peter glared up at him. Wade felt like he could drown in Peter’s eyes, even though Peter was still angry. “If Weasel could do all this hacking why didn’t you get him to get my phone number so you could text me and we could talk?”

Wade felt a bit of a blush across his face. “You said an apology wasn’t enough so I tried to do something big. I was worried if I texted you, Webs, you just wouldn’t answer again after I didn’t respond to your earlier texts.”

“That’s…plausible.”

He nodded. “And I’m not done!” Wade stepped back and handed Peter the daisies. “Okay, first – more daisies! With all the right colors mixed together this time. And then…” He started awkwardly getting on his knees, not used to navigating the movement in a dress; it didn’t help to have Peter standing there starting to look nervous and surprised all at once nor did it help having a gaggle of scientists suddenly squeaking and whispering furiously to each other in the background. 

Peter had gone scarlet. “Wade, what are you doing?” he asked, his voice as high-pitched as Wade had ever heard it.

“I’m trying to not flash the room. I had no idea it was this hard to kneel in this short a skirt.” One knee was completely out of the question, so he ended up on both knees, and held up a box, displaying a ring, a simple round diamond flanked by four rows of smaller diamonds forming the setting. It looked like a stylized spider. “I’m asking you to marry me.” Wade looked up at him. “You already said you’re half in love with me and this is the other half but either way it’s still me. And I love you because you’re you. Not because you’re –“ he glanced and decided people were getting a little too close. “You know. Other you. All the things you do all the time, all the things about you that make me happy and smile, that’s because of who you are Peter.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m only in love with Webs because you’re you, either way.” He held his breath, hoping. Hope wasn’t an emotion he experienced often, and he felt dizzy and nauseous from it.

**

Peter stood there, daisies clutched to his chest, and swallowed. He’d always known Deadpool was insane; he just hadn’t realized how deep the insanity ran. “We’ve had one date and then we broke up!”

“We didn’t actually break up!”

“You tried to shoot me!”

“I didn’t actually hit you!”

“That isn’t the point!”

Wade cocked his head, and said, “Then the point is…?”

“One date, Wade! We haven’t even slept together!” As soon as he said that, Peter made a strangled squeaking noise and wrapped his arms around the bouquet, feeling enough heat in his face it was amazing the flowers didn’t catch fire. “I did not just say that.”

Wade nodded towards the guard station. “There’s a desk right there if you want. I think your co-workers will enjoy a show; they seem to be so far.” He smiled brightly at Peter. “Besides, if you really think about it, we’ve had hundreds of dates all year. We just didn’t know it until we met each other at that stupid baseball game.”

Peter followed Wade’s nod and then groaned, wanting to hide. It looked like his entire floor had come to watch this. 

“I’m not fucking you in front of my colleagues on the guard station at my workplace,” he said, attempting to sound stern. 

“I’m just saying, it’s right there, I mean, why waste an opportunity and if that’s really your only objection – except for the shooting you thing – we can resolve the issue rather easily.”

"Wade!" He seemed to have reached his maximum level for blushing. Thank goodness; any more and he might spontaneously combust. Although that might be preferable at this point.

"What?"

Feeling as if reality had escaped him, Peter took hold of Wade’s hands and pulled him up to standing.

“We still have a lot to talk about.”

“I know.”

“And I’m still mad at you for trying to shoot me.”

“I can tell.”

“I may even push you off a rooftop.”

“I’d really prefer you didn’t.”

Peter took a deep breath. Insanity was clearly contagious.

“Okay.” 

“Is that okay you won’t push me off a building or okay you’ll marry me because it could be…either…way…” Wade trailed off with a gasp as Peter held out his left hand. A small cheer went up from the office gaggle as Wade placed the ring on Peter’s finger, and he squealed as Peter pulled his head down so they could kiss.

When Peter finally let him up for air, Wade rested his forehead on Peter’s. “Please tell me I’m not hallucinating, because I really didn’t think this was going to work.”

Peter stared at the ring on his hand and then up at Wade. “I’ve got to be honest, I’m pretty sure this is the craziest thing I’ve ever done so I may not be reliable right now?”

Wade whimpered, so Peter hugged him closer. “Perhaps not my best joke, but honestly I’m feeling…” What was he feeling? Was insane a feeling? It might be. Giddy, overwhelmed, angry, embarrassed, absolutely insane, and… “In love. With you.” He kissed Wade. “I love you.” Kissed him again. “I can’t believe I’m saying that.” Another kiss. “And do not ever try to shoot me again.”

Wade grinned widely. “I could hit you instead, would that be better?”

“Just kiss me.”

Wade chuckled. “Okay.” Peter smiled as Wade leaned down pressing their lips together. He wrapped his arms around Wade and pulled him close to feel the length of his body against him. It felt wonderful and amazing and perfect, and he hated having to stop. But, there were co-workers watching; he could feel the eyes on them both as they embraced in the lobby.

“Stay put. Right there, Wade. I now have to go show off this ring to a bunch of co-workers because some idiot I know decided to make me the sole topic of office drama for a week.” He turned to head towards the onlookers and pulled up short as Wade caught him, pulling him tight against his chest.

“Sorry, Bambi,” Wade whispered in his ear. “I fucked up once already; I’m not letting go ever again.” There was a breathy laugh. “Especially as I seem to have hit a home run.”

Peter blinked up at him in surprise. “Was…that a…baseball joke? Really?”

“Yes! Why, did I get it wrong?”

“Didn’t you learn anything at that baseball game? It’s not a home run until we have sex!” 

Wade’s expression of innocence was comical. “Oh! Right! We should fix that.” He scooped Peter up and put him over his shoulder.

“Hey, put me down!”

“Nope!” Wade waved to the lobby. “Excuse me folks, lovely to meet you all, but I’m taking my fiancé home now,” Wade announced to the room. “He’ll show you his ring tomorrow.”

Peter laughed and gave up, waving goodbye to his workplace and letting Wade carry him out the doors.

_Love is the most important thing in the world, but baseball is pretty good, too.. – Yogi Berra_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta-da! Thank you all for your comments and your kudos and for sticking with me during this! I had a ton of fun writing it and I'm hoping everyone is as pleased as I am with how it turned out.

**Author's Note:**

> I am not much of a baseball fan, although I give lip service to the Mets and the Red Sox. Any baseball errors are therefore entirely my own, and anything I've gotten correct about the game you can thank Google and my long-suffering husband, who spent way too much time answering questions like "Do they ever call an Umpire a Referee?" and "What's the difference between the dugout and the bullpen?" I also lost 3 hours of my life choosing seats for the characters because the Yankee Stadium interactive 3D seating chart is Beyond Cool.


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